Us Against the World
by Younger Dr. Grey
Summary: Santana and Karofsky are great friends on top of being awesome beards.


**Title:** Us Against the World (1/1)  
><strong>Author<strong>: _youngerdrgrey_  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> One-sided Brittany/Santana and Kurt/Karofsky, Santana/Karofsky friendship, Kurt/Blaine  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Santana and Karofsky are great friends on top of being awesome beards.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>WarningsSpoilers:** "Prom Queen"  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I own nothing. All rights for the characters and the world go to their owners (like Ryan Murphy and FOX). I, in no way, believe – or would lead others to believe – that I own _Glee_. I am merely a fan of the television show who has ideas for things that RIB could do/could've done.

**Author's Note:** Please review if you read.

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><p><strong>(11) US AGAINST THE WORLD  
><strong>

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><p>As far as best friends go, Karofsky's actually pretty kickass. He sits there and listens when I have to bitch about something. He isn't afraid to tell me to shove whatever nonsense I'm spouting off down my throat. And, he definitely is like a big, cuddly teddy bear when he isn't so filled with closeted, homophobic angst (which isn't that often but still).<p>

I used to hear people say that the best guy to take to a dance was a gay guy. He would dance with you, get you punch, and take you to a nice restaurant, but he wouldn't get a boner while dancing, spike the punch, or try to sleep with you in the bathroom and make you one of those stereotypical chicks who gets pregnant on prom night. Who knew all of those chicks who said that were right?

The only downside to the night (royalty fiasco aside) was when Berry sang that stupid slow song and I couldn't take my eyes off of Brittany and he was staring at someone off in left field. Probably Sam. Oh, that's another thing, Dave doesn't tell me who he wants. I know he wants someone, bad, or else he wouldn't get that wistful look on his round, little face all the time. But I'll figure it out because I'm Santana fucking Lopez. That's beside the point. Brittany danced with some blonde, little bitch the whole song and I wanted to walk over and rip that skinny whore away from her. It was probably Ashley, the only ex-Cheerio flier who couldn't get a date to save her life because everyone knew she got herpes from some stupid college guy she screwed. She probably only danced with Britt to get the guys' attention. She doesn't deserve it. I do. I mean, I'm fucking in love with her, but whatever, I just stood over to the side, dancing with my beard/new BFF. Next week, I'll probably fill Ashley's locker with dead mice from the science lab. Or snakes. Or whatever foul substance Puckerman keeps in his own locker.

"Hey, Auntie Tana, want to get a picture?"

I look up to see Dave, hand extended and a little grin on his face. His eyes mock me, which isn't anything new, especially not since I actually admitted that I'm head over heels for Britt to him. He hasn't let me go a day since without dropping some little hint towards her. Today's was a yellow anklet to match Brittany's dress. I refused to wear it, but he slipped it into his coat pocket in case I changed my mind.

I roll my eyes and grab onto his hand. I tell him, "Wear the crown and die."

His lips twitch slightly as his eyes glaze over just a bit. What's with him? Does he feel bad about winning without me? It's fine, really. I'll find some other way to get Brittany. Or is it more than that? What else could it even be unless he's thinking about his perfect other king? He hasn't looked at Sam all night, so maybe that isn't the right person. Honestly, the only guy he's looked at for more than three seconds is - oh, my _God_.

"I know who it is," I say. He focuses and just as quickly he pulls his hand away from me.

"Who what is?" he asks, but the tinge to his voice tells me he knows exactly who I'm talking about.

"Don't even play like you don't know," I warn. He glances down at his feet. I sigh and stand before asking him, "Is this why you won't join glee?"

"I won't join because it's stupid," he says, "What's the fun in singing a bunch of songs that no one will ever hear anyway? You told me that the only meaningful thing you've done in the club in months were songs you sang on your own, outside of it, to B."

I counter with, "Music is like the ultimate pick-up line. Sing a few words from the heart about your pain and sorrow, and anyone will be dropping their pants. Or skirts."

He glances over his shoulder to where Kurt and Blaine are taking pictures together. So maybe he had an extra motive for wanting to take a picture with me. Is he trying to make Hummel jealous? Talk about a plan that's never going to work.

"I'm not interested in singing anything to anybody. Look, if you don't want to take the picture, we can just go. My feet are tired and I've got a paper due Monday," he says.

He always retreats into himself. I really will have to work on that.

"I want the picture. I spent the whole night dancing with you and deserve more than the blisters to remember it by," I say. He grins a bit. He doesn't leave blisters and he knows it. He's a great dancer. He should have taken his chance and wowed Hummel with his mad moves.

Dave grabs my hand again and pulls me along. We get to the star just as Kurt and Blaine finally step away. The hobbit narrows his eyes at our linked hands before turning to walk away. Kurt follows in the same fashion, though his look has more disappointment than frustration. Dave pauses for like a second, but as I've said before, I'm Santana and I catch everything.

"He knows," I say. Dave nods, moving in to situate us in the right light. The photographer motions with his hands and we step to the left.

"First one," Dave says.

"Does he know about the other thing?" I ask.

"Not now, Santana," he says. I sigh and step in closer to him. He wraps his big teddy bear arms around me. He's always grumpy. Always has something under the surface that he doesn't share. It's not healthy for anyone to hold this much aggression, yet he does. He needs to smile more. And not just because these pictures are going on my wall.

I lean up and whisper, "He would be lucky to have you, no matter what you did." As I get off my tip-toes and settle back down, Dave's grip on me tightens. I look to him and his eyes shine. He has awesome eyes, super expressive. He smiles a bit for me before turning an even bigger one to the camera. I do the same.

So, yeah, we're like best friends now. I tell him my secrets. I figure out his. I really don't get why anyone wouldn't be Team Santofsky. (Of course, the more I think about it, team Kurtofsky doesn't seem half as ridiculous as these kids think.) I mean, I support it. But not until Britt and I get together. I can't have him being all happy while I'm stuck at this pity party. Dave and I work because we're both miserable. We work because it's us against the world. And there's no way I'm letting Hummel mess that up. Not by taking my new friend, and especially not by being all cutesy with his little dapper boyfriend.

I don't even notice my smirk until after the first flash. It's back to a smile by the second, and Dave never even notices.

By the time, we're walking towards his car, I've already got a full-fledged plan in the works. Pop quiz to anyone listening: what is the one thing Santana Lopez does better than revenge?

Fuck. Shit. Up.

Yeah, I know, I'm a pretty kickass best friend too.

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><p><em><strong>Title - "Us Against the World"<strong>_  
><em><strong>Thoughts?<strong>_


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